Victoria Falls

by James Hornor

  “If I give you your $10,000, can you promise me that you will attempt to get Fortran on board in the next twenty-four hours?”

  “Look Nisar, I told you that I would consider your offer, but nothing more. My guess is that the final decision from the Bank will take months, maybe years. I can’t accept money for something I can’t deliver.”

  Nisar just sat there, deeply inhaling his cigarette and staring past me to the lawn that formed the courtyard at The Norfolk.

  “Unlike you, James, I do keep my promises, and I have made arrangements for you to meet my associate, Raj Gulati, at the Taj Hotel in Bombay next Wednesday. He will set up the meeting with the judge, and ten days from now, you and your incarcerated friend will be sitting here in Nairobi, enjoying lunch together.”

  I realized that Nisar was hoping that I would be guilt-stricken by his announcement, and that I would respond in kind by agreeing to talk to David. For a split second, I considered playing that game, as it would give me continued leverage with him and the investors, but the prospect of making a clean break from the whole situation was a much stronger alternative.

  “I am deeply indebted to you for making these arrangements. Thank you, Nisar. I am astounded by your generosity. Do I give the money to Raj or to the judge?”

  “Raj will be expecting $5,000 for making the connection with the judge. As I mentioned before, the judge will be expecting $25,000 and maybe more.”

  “What should I do after I meet with the judge?”

  “Probably just wait at the Taj. I’m guessing it will take a day or two to get him out.”

  I felt someone’s hand on my shoulder, and from the brightening of Nisar’s face I knew it was Melissa. Both of us started to get up, and as Melissa walked around next to me, Nisar extended his right hand.

  “I’m delighted to meet you, Mrs. Monroe. My name is Nisar Malik.”

  “How did you know I was Mrs. Monroe? I could have been one of James’s illicit liaisons.”

  We all laughed and I could see that Nisar couldn’t take his eyes off Melissa.

  “Your husband and I have become very close. We actually have several things in common, including a penchant for beautiful women.”

  “You are so right, Mr. Malik. When we first met at Victoria Falls, I had to rescue him from a stunningly attractive woman who already had him in her clutches.”

  “Why don’t you join us for lunch?”

  Nisar was clearly anticipating the pleasure of sitting next to Melissa for an hour or two.

  “Actually, I’ve come to tell James that I’m having lunch with Gerard. He has more people for me to meet. I think he knows half of Nairobi.”

  Nisar was clearly disappointed, but he reverted to his impeccable Indian manners with his goodbyes to Melissa. I thought for a moment that he was going to escort her back to the room. Once she exited, Nisar began to rearrange his satchel and cigarette case as if preparing to leave.

  “Aren’t we having lunch?”

  “Now that your beautiful wife has left, I’ve lost my motivation to extend our conversation. I will give Raj your number. He should contact you in the next two or three days.”

  “What will you tell the investors?”

  “I’ll tell them that I overestimated one man’s ability to keep his word.”

  “That’s not really fair.”

  “Life isn’t fair, Mr. Monroe. I’m sure you have learned that by now.”

  With that, Nisar got up from the table, shook my hand, and gave me a broad smile before exiting the terrace. It was the last time I ever saw him.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  THE NEXT AFTERNOON, JAMES CALLED THE RCMP OFFICES in Banff to get an update on Charlie. He decided to hold off on calling an attorney until his son was actually arrested. The inspector had handed him a piece of paper with the RCMP number in Banff and Edmonton, and as he pulled the paper out of his wallet, he noticed that the inspector had also written down his cell on the other side.

  “Inspector Macpherson.”

  “Good afternoon, Inspector. James Monroe.”

  “Mr. Monroe. I was going to call you. Several events have unfolded since we talked yesterday.”

  “What kind of events?”

  “Yesterday afternoon we were able to get into the call history of your daughter’s phone, and we located the mechanic she used to work on her car. I actually interviewed him by phone this morning.”

  “What did he have to say?”

  “He acknowledged that he had been up there two or three times to work on her car. The last time he was there—that Friday morning—he claims that he saw your son and daughter arguing in the driveway. At one point he remembered your daughter shouting, “Go to hell!” at your son and then locking him out of the house. Apparently your son stood at the door and yelled obscenities until she finally let him back in.”

  “I still have a voicemail on my phone that Jenny sent me that morning. There was no mention of any trouble with Charlie. I know Jenny. If there had been an issue she would have mentioned it to me.”

  “She may not have wanted to upset you.”

  “What about Charlie’s assertion that the mechanic returned that night and that he confronted him in the driveway?”

  “I covered that as well. He said his wife would attest to him being home for the entire night.”

  “Can you tell me the man’s name?”

  “This is an active investigation and therefore confidential. I’ve already given you more information than we normally provide—even to family members.”

  “What happens next?”

  “This most recent conversation with the mechanic was, in the short term, the last piece of the puzzle. That, along with the forensic evidence that Charlie has already admitted to, will be enough evidence to take to a judge, and he’ll be arrested for the disappearance and possible murder of your daughter. I would highly recommend that you move forward with finding an attorney. After he is formally charged, he’ll be moved to the correctional facility in Edmonton.”

  James ended the call and found the Google application on his phone. He typed in “Attorneys, Banff, Edmonton.” He scrolled down. “Henry Moore, Criminal Litigation.” He hit the call key on the website and listened as the phone rang twice.

  “Henry Moore’s office.”

  “Yes, is Henry Moore there please?”

  “Mr. Moore is in court all week, but he normally checks his messages late in the day.”

  James gave her his contact information, and as soon as the call ended, he saw an incoming call from Vancouver. It was Rob Curtin.

  “Hey, J-man, how are things in Lake Louise?”

  James loved hearing Rob’s friendly voice.

  “Things have been better. How’s everything there?”

  “Full house last night and full house tonight. The laundry room looks like a war zone. Hey, when are you headed back?”

  “Hard to say, I’m trying to find an attorney to represent my son. He’s gotten himself in somewhat of a scrape. And you probably don’t know that my daughter is missing. It’s been almost a week.”

  “Your son called here looking for you last Saturday morning. Never knew you had a son.”

  “It’s a long story, but yes, you were speaking to my son.”

  James saw that he had an incoming call, so he quickly promised to call Rob back.

  “May I please speak to James Monroe?”

  “Mr. Moore? Thanks for returning my call so quickly.”

  “Cheryl just happened to catch me on a break. Tell me what is going on.”

  “My son, Charlie Benjamin, is about to be arrested for the disappearance and possible murder of my daughter.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “As we speak he’s being transferred from an RCMP holding tank in Banff to a correctional facility in Edmonton.”

  “Have they presented evidence to a judge?”

  “They’re about to do that.”

  “Do you have a scanner?”

&nbs
p; James had a vague understanding of how you could scan documents on a copier, but he had never used a scanner. Henry Moore could tell that James was clueless, so he didn’t wait for a reply.

  “How about a fax machine?”

  “There’s one at the convenience.”

  “Ok, go to the convenience, get the fax number there, and call my office. Cheryl will fax you a release form that you will need to sign and fax back. That will allow me to talk to Charlie and to be there when they hope to present evidence. Some of what they hope to present could be challenged before it gets to a judge.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Tell me in four or five minutes what happened.”

  James explained Charlie’s unannounced arrival in Lake Louise, the fingerprints on the bathtub, the mechanic in the driveway the next morning, Jenny’s disappearance the next afternoon, the truck showing up at 2:00 A.M., and his own arrival in Lake Louise. He ended with Charlie’s explanation of the fingerprints on Jenny’s robe.

  “Any eyewitnesses?”

  “The mechanic has been found, and he is claiming that he heard them arguing in the driveway. He said Jenny locked Charlie out of the house.”

  “Mechanic’s name?”

  “The inspector wouldn’t give me his name.”

  “Which inspector?”

  “His last name is Macpherson.”

  “Figures. He’s nice enough, but then he buries you with the evidence.”

  “Any other eyewitnesses?”

  “Macpherson claims that a neighbor saw Charlie driving Jenny’s Saab on Friday afternoon. She probably saw the mechanic.”

  “What’s the name of the neighbor?”

  “Not sure. It could have been quite a few people who live fairly close by.”

  “Is your son married?”

  “Yes, he and his wife, Heather, and their son, Ryan, live in Winnetka, Illinois.”

  “Any domestic violence issues in Charlie’s past?”

  “None that I know about. But I just met my son a few days ago.”

  “Do you have his wife’s phone number?”

  “Nope. I’d have to get it from Charlie.”

  “How about her email address?”

  “Don’t have that either.”

  “Ok, you and Cheryl need to fax back and forth, and I will get her going on finding these names. In the meantime we need to get Heather’s phone number.”

  “Is that it?”

  “Unfortunately I’m going to be in court until almost 5:00 P.M. If you want to try another attorney who could get down there this afternoon, I understand. Best I can do is first thing in the morning.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Moore.”

  “Sure thing. Oh, by the way, the RCMP is generally very fair, but sometimes they get ahead of themselves, which sounds like what we’re seeing here.”

  James ended the call and thought about calling Rob Curtin back. Despite his normally calm demeanor, his head was spinning. He couldn’t begin this process again with a new attorney. Henry Moore seemed competent and aware of every angle. Instead of calling Rob back, he got in his truck and drove to the convenience. He received the fax from Cheryl, signed it, and faxed it back. Henry Moore was now Charlie’s best hope of not being arrested, or if the arrest had already occurred, of getting him out on bail.

  As he pulled into the driveway, he decided that the best thing he could do for Charlie would be to call Heather. He Googled Charlie’s name in Winnetka, and to his surprise, Charlie’s name, address, and phone number came right up. He realized that it was almost dinnertime in Chicago, but he figured that would provide a better chance of Heather being home.

  “Hello?”

  “Is this Heather Benjamin?”

  “Speaking.”

  “Heather, this is James Monroe calling from Alberta, Canada.”

  “Is Charlie OK?”

  James was impressed that her first thought was of Charlie’s well-being.

  “He’s fine, but I think he told you that he is being detained.”

  “Is he in jail?”

  James could hear Ryan in the background asking if his dad was on the phone.

  “That’s why I’m calling. We’re trying to do everything we can to keep him out of jail.”

  Heather didn’t respond, and James could tell that she was desperately trying to hold back the sobs that were welling in the back of her throat.

  “Did he do something awful to your daughter?”

  “Of course not. Nobody thinks that he did anything to hurt Jenny. But there is some circumstantial evidence that they are trying to use against him.”

  “Do you mean being alone with your daughter?”

  “Yes, that and a few other things. We may get to the point where they will want to talk to you, so I just want you to be prepared in case they call or Charlie’s attorney calls.”

  “Charlie has an attorney in Canada?”

  “I just found an attorney for him a few hours ago, so he may call you.”

  “What would he ask me?”

  “He just wants to be sure that Charlie has not had any domestic violence issues in the past.”

  Heather didn’t respond for about ten seconds. James’s heart began to drop. “This will be the death knell,” he thought.

  “We’ve had one domestic violence issue that happened about four years ago, before Charlie’s dad got sick. We were cooking out and planning to have dinner in the backyard. Richard and Charlie were arguing about some investment that Charlie had made. He needed a cosigner, and Richard had reluctantly signed. The deal went belly-up. Of course Richard didn’t want to assume any of the liability, and Charlie kept screaming at him over and over ‘Then why did you sign?’ The whole thing escalated, and Ryan and I rushed out of the kitchen to try to quiet them down.

  “Ryan got between them just as Charlie shoved his dad. Richard fell backwards and Ryan just happened to be behind him as he fell. Ryan started screaming, ‘He broke my arm; he broke my arm.’ Instead of stopping, Charlie screamed at his dad, ‘Get up faker, you’re not hurt.’ Ryan thought that Charlie was screaming at him. He went into a high-pitched wail that sounded like a trapped animal. The neighbors called the police and two squad cars arrived in about five minutes.

  “No one was charged, but a report was filed with the Winnetka police, and Charlie later received a letter saying the report would remain on file until 2027. Charlie hired an attorney to try to get the report removed, but he couldn’t do a thing.”

  James didn’t respond for almost a minute, just allowing the potential impact of Heather’s story to line up with the evidence already there. He knew that a prosecuting attorney would jump on “previous offenses” and “anger management issues” to put Charlie away for at least thirty years, maybe for life. Plus the mechanic’s story of Jenny and Charlie arguing before her disappearance would dovetail perfectly with the domestic violence report already on file. It was the perfect storm of incriminating evidence, but somehow, for Heather, he needed to remain upbeat.

  “That’s very helpful Heather. I know that not having Charlie there must be very difficult.”

  Heather’s throat tightened as she fought back tears. She could barely speak.

  “When you see Charlie, tell him that Ryan and I miss him and we love him very much.”

  She was barely able to get the words out, but now it was James who was almost speechless.

  “Have a good evening, Heather. You’re a good wife and a good mom. We will get through this. Charlie needs our love and support, and of course he also needs our prayers.”

  James put down the phone, found Charlie’s suitcase, and began to pack clothes and personal belongings that they might allow him to have in prison. He decided to drive to Edmonton first thing in the morning to hopefully see Charlie and meet Henry Moore.

  Now that he knew about the domestic violence report that was permanently on file in Winnetka, his options were narrowing to only one possibility. He had to find his daughter, and in doing so, also s
ave his son.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  RAJ GULATI PHONED ME AT THE NORFOLK TWO DAYS later to say that he had arranged a meeting at the Taj Mahal hotel in Bombay for Wednesday afternoon. The judge had requested that no names be used, but Raj had given him Jonathan’s name so that he could explore the particulars of the case.

  I was to meet Raj in my hotel room at 3:30 P.M., and the meeting with the judge would be thirty minutes later. He requested his $5,000 to be in American money, and he told me that the judge had upped his fee from $25,000 to $30,000. I had already done a wire transfer of $25,000 from Citibank in New York, so the next day, I arranged a $10,000 loan from my retirement account with the World Bank. Melissa had been effusive in her gratitude for what I was doing and promised to pay me back within a year. Still, I had given her the wrong impression regarding my personal wealth, and she assumed that in the grand scheme of things $25,000 or $35,000 was probably just money I would have spent on a second car. Essentially she believed that I would not miss it. I had paid for everything since we had left Victoria Falls, so she had begun to assume my largesse in all financial dealings.

  When I made my airplane and hotel reservations the next day, I was tempted to put it on my corporate card with the Bank, but that would have been a deception, so I used a personal card to reserve the plane and the room. Since I was carrying “financial instruments” in excess of $10,000, I would have to use my World Bank credentials to get $35,000 in cash through customs in Bombay. It would not be difficult since World Bank officials sometimes were required to handle large sums of currency. It occurred to me that Melissa would have had a great deal of difficulty bringing that much cash into India.

  On the morning of my departure, I packed the cash into a case that had a World Bank insignia on the side, and I made Xerox copies of my Bank credentials. Since I only anticipated being in Bombay for a few days—certainly no longer than a week—I packed a small suitcase and grabbed a cab to Jomo Kenyatta airport in Nairobi. With my World Bank credentials, I breezed through customs and caught the 6:00 A.M. flight to Bombay. It was a six-hour flight, but because of the two-hour time difference, it was 2:00 P.M. local time when I arrived at the Bombay airport.